


Old Wounds

by ScreechTheMighty



Series: Talk Some Sense To Me [2]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Loss, Gen, Pathfinder is also here for a hot minute, Pre-Relationship, Rated for swearing, heavy use of headcanons, keep that in mind I guess??, more explicitly than last time but not quite there hence the reason I didn't use a ship tag but like, no beta reader we die like men, siri at what point do I start using the ship tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: Mirage sees double in the ring and nearly gets himself killed. He says he's fine; Wraith knows otherwise.Follow-up toTangled; events from that fic are referenced here, but you don't necessarily need to read that one to understand what's going on here.





	Old Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Random note before we get started, but some of the headcanons that I used for this fic are part of my attempt to connect Titanfall and Apex more closely, including headcanons I made up for my [One is Quick, The Other's Tall](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1107093) series. That's not super important to the fic, I just wanted to throw that out there. Also, Respawn, leak the universe timeline, please, I'm suffering.

Elliott didn’t hesitate. He didn’t freeze. He hadn’t become a multiple-time champion by choking under pressure (regardless of what Wraith said). He was unflappable. Unbeatable. He was a _legend._

Or, at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

It was easier when he went into full persona. Mirage could do pretty much anything as far as Elliott was concerned, especially since he had Wraith and Pathfinder on his team. They had some good synergy going. Elliott kept reminding himself of that during the current match as they looted some buildings near the swamps, as he often did early in a match. It helped to get himself psyched up.

_We can do this. We’ve got this. We…_

The self-affirmations were cut off by the sound of footsteps somewhere nearby.

Elliott froze. It wasn’t Pathfinder or Wraith; they were both outside. He moved carefully to the door and peered down the hallway. It didn’t look like there was anyone there, but…

Elliott summoned up a decoy and sent it down the hallway. It worked, in a way; while no one _attacked_ his decoy, one door opened once the decoy had run past, allowing a fast-moving figure to dart into another room.

_Gotcha._

Elliott darted to the door, threw it open, and aimed. “Think you can bamboozle _me_ -“

He froze.

For a second, the person on the floor looked familiar: dark hair, tanned skinned, defiant expression, same stupid cleft in his chin that Elliott remembered so clearly. Elliott should’ve pulled the trigger, but he couldn’t, because he could’ve sworn the person looking up at him was…

No, no, it couldn’t be Miles. The eye color was all wrong—green, not dark brown. And, of course, as Elliott realized this, he also realized that the guy had a gun.

There was a long _bang,_ a bright flash of light, then nothing.

When he came to, he was unarmed, backpack-less, and staring up at Pathfinder’s face.  “Are you all right?” Pathfinder asked with his usual cheerful cadence.

“Uh.” Elliott reached up to touch his temple. There was a definite scrape; it looked like the helmet had taken the worst of it, but his ears were still ringing and his head hurt like a bitch. “What happened?”

“Someone shot you. We heard the shots and were able to intercept the enemy.” Pathfinder grabbed something and put it down on Elliott’s chest—a backpack. “We recovered your items. Do you feel nauseous?”

“I don’t…think so?” Elliott struggled to sit up. He didn’t feel like he was going to throw up or pass out, so physically, he was pretty sure he was okay. Emotionally, though…

“You got the guy?”

“Yes! He did not get very far.” Pathfinder sounded pleased with himself; it would’ve been adorable under any other circumstance. “Can you stand? Wraith is nearby, watching the exit.”

Elliott nodded. “I think so, yeah. Thanks for the save, Path.”

“My pleasure, friend!” Pathfinder helped Elliott up. “We would have a difficult time winning without you.”

That was so weirdly sweet that it almost distracted Elliott from the growing sense of dread that was starting to claw at his stomach. But it wasn’t enough. Elliott’s hands were shaking as he put back on his backpack and took the gun from Pathfinder. He almost asked where the body was, but bit his tongue. That was a question that required a lot of explanation, and he wasn’t giving it. Not here, not now, not to Pathfinder.

He didn’t have to ask, anyway. The body was lying just outside the door. Wraith crouched nearby, watching their surroundings. She glanced up at Elliott as he stumbled down the stairs. “You okay?” she asked.

“Uh.”

He knew it wasn’t Miles. There was no way it was Miles. There were a lot of different details he could make out now that the person was lying still (with their eyes open, green eyes, not brown). Freckles Miles didn’t have. Nose was off. Hair wasn’t curly enough. And yet, even as he was staring…

“ _Mirage_.”

“I’m okay,” Elliott said. _It’s not him. It’s not him._ “I’m good.”

Wraith didn’t look like she was buying it, and she must’ve worked out that the stranger had something to do with it. She dragged them away from that cluster of buildings before they’d finished checking them all. Elliott wanted to protest, but he also didn’t want to be near that body any longer than he had to.

He tried to get his head back in the game. He really did. He _mostly_ got his head back in the game, enough that they pulled off a win.

But he also took a few Peacekeeper blasts directly to the chest and only survived because he’d managed to find a good chest plate. That was the second time in a day that he’d been saved by dumb look and a good armor find. Usually, he’d be pissed at himself.

That day, he was too distracted by other thoughts to beat himself up.

Elliott uncharacteristically dodged post-match reporters to get in and out of medical as quickly as possible. He had some bruising and a cracked rib; they gave him some salve and painkillers and told him to take it easy. Elliot nearly dropped both in his rush to get out the door.

_Good job, legend._

Wraith was waiting for him outside. “Are you good?” she asked.

“Yup! Had worse.” Elliott grinned, trying to distract from how freaked he felt. “I’ll be all healed up and ready to go for next time.”

“Physically _and_ mentally?”

_Ah, shit._ Elliott shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d noticed. Wraith was terrifyingly perceptive. “Yeah. I’m good.”

She wasn’t buying it. But she also didn’t get the chance to keep questioning him; he booked it out of there before she could, speed-walking back to his room.

There was one thing he wanted to do—one thing he _needed_ to do. But gathering up the courage to do it took longer than he expected. He paced around his room, checked his suit for damage, applied that salve, picked up his laundry, and only left the room to get dinner. He got it to-go and ate it in his room while staring intently at a drawer with a few of his personal effects. It might as well have been a damn bomb for how anxious it made him.

_Just do it, Elliott, it’s going to drive you crazy if you don’t…_

He got up suddenly and opened the drawer. There was a small picture frame on the top; it powered on to a picture of himself and his mom. He hovered his thumb over the _next_ button. He hadn’t looked at the other pictures in…months.

Maybe years.

Elliott swallowed hard.

Someone knocked on the door.

He froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, until the person knocked again. “Uhh, hang on!” He put the frame back and made sure the drawer was shut tightly before he went to answer. It was Wraith. She had swapped out her usual attire for plain black pants and a loose, light grey sweater. He realized it was the one she’d worn that time he’d helped her with her hair. Did she not own another sweater? “You okay?” Elliott asked warily.

“What the hell happened back there?” Her voice sounded tense; he couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or concerned. “You were distracted.”

“I was having an off day,” Elliott said, trying not to sound too defensive. “So what? We won.”

Wraith crossed her arms and stared him right in the eyes. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t; she had that effect. “Whatever is going on with you, it’s affecting the entire team. That’s what _._ If something is going to be a problem, we need to know.” She paused. “And I’m worried about you.”

The confession gave him pause. A _lot_ of pause. He’d never expected to hear _I’m worried about you_ come out of her mouth. She kept to herself, most of the time; not prying into each other’s business was an unspoken part of this whole team situation they had going. That was why he didn’t ask her about all the computers she liked to hack into during games. That was why she’d never really asked him about his mom, someone he’d talked about more and more as he was more comfortable around her. Elliott wanted to resent that she had picked _now_ to start asking questions.

But, he realized, he needed a new set of eyes. Someone to either tell him he was crazy or that he wasn’t crazy. So, he sighed and stepped back. “You should come in,” he said.

Wraith looked taken aback, but her face quickly went back to neutral as she stepped inside. Elliott was immediately glad that he’d tidied up a bit. Sure, his bed wasn’t made, but he didn’t have underwear lying on the floor anymore. “It’s, uhm…remember that, uh, that guy? That Pathfinder took out near the swamps?”

“I do.”

“Do you remember what he looked like?”

Wraith frowned. “…I think so? Why?”

Elliott swallowed hard. It took even more emotional effort this time to pull out the picture frame. The picture of him and his mother was still up. He wished he could just keep it there, on his mother’s gently smiling face, but he had to do this.

_Just do it, Elliott, come on._

He hit the button.

The next picture was one of his mother, a small baby, and a man that Elliott only knew from the pictures and faint memories. But that one wasn’t important, so he hit the button again. A picture of four boys ranging from their early to mid teens. And then again, to the picture he was actually looking for: Elliott and three other men who looked a lot like him, squeezed into the frame.

“…It’s, uhm…” He tapped one of the figures in the center, the one making a face and flashing a peace sign. Dark curly hair. Dark eyes. Tanned skin. That stupid cleft in his chin. “Look fuh-famil…”

He didn’t finish the word. He didn’t have to. Wraith understood.

“Well…it’s not that guy,” Wraith said quietly. “But it does look like him. Who is he?”

“…my brother.”

Wraith glanced up at him; it was just her eyes, but she definitely looked surprised. “You…have a brother?”

“Yeah, uhm… _had_. I… _had._ Three of them.” He tapped their faces, left to right. “Henry, Miles, and Chris. I thought…I thought that guy back there was…”

He couldn’t keep looking at the picture. Elliott sat the frame back in the drawer and sat down on the bed, suddenly feeling shaky. “…Miles and Henry went missing. They had all joined up with the Militia. This was, uhm, this was when there were some border fights and the Re-remem-remnant fleet was puh-po…looking around. Or something. I don’t know, but…”

_Slow down. Picture the words. Breathe._

“Chris died. We know that for sure. Miles and Henry, just…” He gestured vaguely. “Gone.”

Wraith sat down next to him. “So, you thought…that might’ve been him?”

“I don’t know? I guess. I mean, it could’ve been. I don’t know where he went. He could be a…a captive or he could be in the fucking ring with me…” Elliott was suddenly on his feet again, pacing anxiously. “…or he could be dead! I mean, who knows, right? They never did find his body. Y’know, at least when Chris died, he was nice enough to drop dead where they could find his body. I didn’t have to spend fucking _months_ checking the door, wu-wondering if he was going to finally come home…” He laughed hysterically. “…and it _would_ be him. Miles was an _asshole_ , he was always showing me up, it would be fucking _just like him_ to show up here and not even say hello, just p-p-pop up, ‘Hey, Elliott, guess what, I’m not dead, but you are now, _no hard feelings_ …’”

“Elliott.”

“ _What?_ ”

He didn’t mean to yell. In fact, he immediately felt like shit once he realized what he’d done. Elliott took a deep breath and turned to her to apologize.

Before he could, three things happened.

One: He realized Wraith was standing.

Two: Wraith hugged him.

Three: He realized he was crying.

There was a lot happening, so much that he froze for the second time that day. This time, it was partially because Wraith’s hug had his arms pinned to his side. But it was also because he didn’t know what was going on. Why was he crying? He didn’t cry. He’d never cried over Miles, ever.

But maybe that was why he was crying. Because he’d spent years too scared to say that his brother was dead but too uncertain to say that his brother was alive. Because that feeling had been doubled when Henry went missing. Because he was secretly grateful when they’d moved from Harmony to Solace because it meant he didn’t have to keep walking past their empty rooms every day. Because he spent a lot of time trying not to think about them, and apparently there was good reason, because this was the most he’d thought about Miles in years and now look at him. Crying while being awkwardly hugged by Wraith.

Wraith, who was not actually a hugger.

Wraith, who had flinched when he’d touched her during that whole hair incident.

Wraith, who was always so closed off for what Elliott assumed was a good reason.

He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to do this, but all that came out when he opened his mouth was a stuttering, sobbing noise that didn’t sound like words. Wraith hugged him more tightly in response. He tried again. “Sssorry…”

“Don’t be.”

“You don’t, you don’t guh…” He couldn’t make the word come out. “’m…”

She squeezed him again. That shut him up pretty quickly. It was selfish, yes, but the hug felt actually pretty good. He was already crying; he’d take any comfort he could get. His mouth kept going, even if he wasn’t apologizing. What he wanted to say was _I miss them. I want my brothers back._ What came out was a jumble of syllables in between sobs and hiccups.

But maybe it made some kind of sense, because Wraith murmured “I know” over and over in response and rubbed his back.

He wasn’t sure how long he cried, but it felt like a while. Eventually, the tears died down enough that Wraith decided it was okay to let go of him—mostly. She kept one hand on his arm. “You okay?” she asked quietly.

“Uhm.” Elliott wiped the tears away. “I dunno. I guess…” He took a deep breath. “I never really…handled this.” Shit, he probably looked ugly right now. There was no such thing as pretty crying, especially not when your possibly dead brother was involved. “I just wish I knew.”

Wraith nodded. “I know what you mean.” There was something in her voice; Elliott wondered about that for a second, but quickly dropped the thought. She’d already put herself out there for him. Over-analyzing when she spoke funny felt like spitting on her kindness. “I don’t know Miles, but…if it were me, I would’t do that to you.”

Elliott nodded. “Yeah, I don’t…I don’t think he would either. I was just mad.” He laughed, thick and nasally from the tears. “That’s what having a brother is like. You say a lot of stupid shit you don’t mean.” He felt drained, and his chest hurt all over again. Had he made that crack worse by crying, or had Wraith really hugged him that hard? “Ah, shit…”

Elliott sat back down. Wraith stayed standing, her hands clasped behind her back. “Sorry to dump all of that on you. I just…just…lost my head a bit. I needed someone to check my crazy, I guess.”

“You’re not crazy,” Wraith said immediately. She was swaying slightly as she spoke. She looked uncomfortable. “I understand. I do. We’ll just have to be more careful in the future.”

“Yeah. I can do that. And uhm…listen, you didn’t have to…I mean, I know that you’re not…” He made a vague hugging gesture. “I just feel bad…”

 “Don’t feel bad. I wanted to.”

_Oh._

Elliot remembered that night a few weeks back where he’d helped her with her hair. It had been an emergency situation, with no time to really consider the ramifications of things like _being alone in room with her_ and _brushing her hair like they were super close or something_. But there were a few things he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since.

The way she’d called him Elliott.

The way she’d thanked him.

The way she’d smiled at him as he left.

And also the way she’d been really closed off aside from those moments, despite having asked for his help, which was the whole reason he felt bad about _this_ incident. But now it turned out that she was…okay with it?

That she’d _wanted_ to hug him?

_No, don’t read into that, Elliott, it just means she was okay with making you feel less upset, do not read into that, Elliott, don’t do it._

“…thanks,” Elliott said. He made himself keep looking at her, because looking away would make this already awkward situation even more so, but it was _hard_. Especially when he was sure he was blushing. “It…it helped. It really helped. Thank you for listening.”

“Yeah. Of course. Anything for a team mate, right?”

There was that smile again. _I’d make myself look like an idiot every day if it meant I could see that smile,_ he thought. Then, _Elliott, what in the actual fuck are you thinking, man. Stop this. Stop it right now._

“Yeah. But still…you get an extra free shot for this month. Redeemable any time.”

Wraith nodded contemplatively. “In that case…you’re really shit at lying.”

The comment got a startled laugh out of him. “ _Wow._ You couldn’t even _wait._ ”

“Well, someone had to tell you. You should work on that.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Elliott ran a hand through his hair. She was still smiling at him. It was making it hard to think. “Hey, I, uhm…I think I need some time if that’s okay. Just gotta get my head back on straight.”

“I get it.” Wraith nodded and started for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you.”

She stopped in the door to smile at him one more time. Then she was gone, leaving Elliot alone with a head full of _way too many emotions._ Lingering grief and shakiness. Confusion. And…

What was that? Affection? Did he have a crush on Wraith? No. No way. Wraith was…

…well, she was…

“…Fuck,” he muttered.

Elliott lay down on the bed and pressed his hands to his eyes. “ _Ohhh,_ fuck.” Why? Why was he like this? When did _this happen?_ Was it even _happening_ or was he feeling vulnerable and, as a result, open to any kind of emotional connection as long as he didn’t have to feel alone? Fuck, he sure didn’t know. He didn’t know shit. Elliott hesitated before sitting up enough to get the picture frame back out. He stared at the faces of his brothers, despite the fact that seeing them again made his chest hurt. He wondered what they would’ve thought of this. Of her.

Well, based on the evidence of what happened the _last_ time he admitted to having a crush, they’d start by mocking him relentlessly. But after that…

They’d like her, he liked to think. Maybe not at first—Wraith could be kind of intense if you didn’t know her—but if they got to know her…

Yeah. He liked to think they’d like her.

He let himself think that maybe he’d get a definitive answer with Miles and Henry. But he couldn’t hold on to the thought for too long. It hurt too much. The hurt radiated back over his body like the ache in his ribs from the stupid Peacekeeper blast. But even as it ached he couldn’t make himself put the picture away. Not yet.

Elliot set the picture frame up on his bedside table, hugged his pillow against his chest, and stared at the four of them. Younger. Happier. Together.

“I miss you guys,” Elliot whispered.

He fell asleep with his brothers watching over him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at screechthemighty and I'm determined to write as many fics with these two as possible. I can't be stopped.


End file.
